


Off Hour Job

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M, Relationship(s), Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-12-16
Updated: 2004-12-16
Packaged: 2018-11-20 20:36:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11342754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Boys try to get along. Will *Dont Show Dont Tell* approach work?





	Off Hour Job

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

Off Hour Job

### Off Hour Job

#### by Griva

  


Off Hour Job 

Sequel to A Job Well Done. Takes place in a week. All is not fluff for the boys, but they try to get along. Beta'd by Jynn. 

* * *

Before we left Rhode Island last Sunday at midday, Mulder tried to instruct me that I should keep strictly separate what was here and what would be there, once we were back at the Bureau. I noted dryly that if some fluids copiously had left my body over the last twelve hours, gray brain matter wasn't among it and it didn't mean I couldn't handle _adult_ behavior the way I had before. With a relieved expression, he kissed me once, hard and fast, which must have been meant to sum up his appreciation of my hush-hush attitude and a sign of _that's it_ , and then stood quickly, checking his pockets for the house key and looking around to make sure we weren't going to leave behind something... suspicious. I could have told him he was wasting his time, but I was too busy admiring his ass and wondering if I just woke up from the most enjoyable and longest wet dream of my life. 

The contrast between Mulder unzipped--perverted, desperately demanding, happily abandoned--and Mulder of the morning after--sated, blase, mildly boring and eventually inexpressive--at first amused and fascinated me. One thing I was troubled about when I relaxed in the plane seat and thought hard about everything that had happened was that the man appeared more chameleonic than I expected. Either Mulder was a clinical case of split personality or incredibly in control of his inner desires. The third option was it was his protection from the powers that be. Now _that_ was familiar. I didn't want to rip his shield off but I eventually could. Or will have to be made to when I feel outstripped and imperiled. 

We drove in a taxi back to the airport and hardly exchanged five sentences while flying back. Mulder said _see you tomorrow_ and took a separate car home. Well, it didn't look like we would be sharing ketchup and eating fries off of one plate in the FBI cafeteria. 

Not that I was complaining. Shit, it _was_ a relief. I'd been half worried that _pulling back_ might have been awkward. Mulder is the last man I'd call a hypocrite, but he is truly the most tight-assed paranoid I have encountered. Mulder wouldn't be the first guy who regretted deeds done in the dark of night. 

Maybe it _was_ a twelve hour madness. A Quanachatong fuck-your-brains-out virus. Mulder was less snappish and snarkish around me for five working days afterward, but otherwise no different than before. He still ordered to be served his vanilla cappuccino in the same aggravating tone, but called me Alex when he did. When I left the Bureau at night he was still there and when I came back in the morning, he was _already_ there. He didn't ask, but my thumb still hurt and I wore the band-aid like a medal till Wednesday. 

On Wednesday Skinner handed us new thrilling cases that mainly dealt with unauthorized access to state property, public funds embezzlement and document fraud on a manure processing plant. The last one required a federal presence. Skinner told Mulder to go alone to verify some protocols. There was no need to stretch the budget with us going together. It was good for once to be a Junior - for I was to spend a very exciting Friday in the archive gathering mystical evidence, but better that than traipsing through feces in my loafers. When we left Skinner's office Mulder looked like his dick had been stuck in his zipper since 6 am when he got up from his couch. I suspected the AD considered himself being saddled with the FBI's most unwanted as some kind of punishment for his previous life sins and took this opportunity to deliver some payback. 

I wished Mulder a good flight with the most sympathetic smile I could manage. He ripped the plane ticket I was handing him from my hands with a look that would have put a hole through my forehead and ambled to the elevator. I wanted to slam him into the wall and inquire if he thought this was my fault, too. You touchy, smooth rebel. But my temperance has brought me far in my relatively short life. It would be only prudent to act just like Mulder did. Like I'm amnesiac. 

Yet the time at Quanachatong was too fresh in my good memory. It felt too fucking good to recall how the Spooky had lured me in and kept me up. Either he was a sensualist or he hadn't been touched since Christmas. After several get offs he would flap his mouth in a way that made me want to reach out for him again. He told me that I kissed like an armed assault in a back alley -- short, hard, and dirty. And I couldn't stop thinking of him as a galloping thoroughbred stallion. Thursday night was spent in fantasies that involved lots of leather and lube and kept both my hands occupied. 

The archives were dusty and full of memories of my fingers in Mulder's mouth and his tongue on my ass. On Friday afternoon the Smoker called and demanded I meet him. Five minutes were spent before the mirror, adjusting my _geeky_ face and well-scrubbed looks that I cared meticulously to wear for the public. Then I took a rented car and I made sure the glint in my eyes that was there when I thought of what we did in Rhode Island with Mulder, was gone. I was obedient, dutiful and authority-fearing. 

The meeting was short and smelly. I handed the old man two reports I had copied from Mulder's files. In my opinion they were the gibberish of a man who read too much Wells and Isimov. Senior Agent just tossed the facts and put them together like a puzzle, interpreting them as a universal conspiracy theory. I felt no scruples when handing in Mulder's findings. Scully did the same. I saw _her_ reports. At least I didn't waste three more needless pages of paper to debunk Mulder's theories using words I'd need a very thick dictionary to understand. Smoker didn't pay much attention to the papers, but asked me how we were getting along. I answered we were getting _there_. He asked what I thought of Mulder. I said he was versatile. The brusque manner of my expression seemed to add points for me in his eyes. Such power-moguls hardly appreciated wagging tongues. Then, striking another match, he asked what was at Rhode Island for me. All I said, pronouncing words very, very carefully was that it was a useful experience of socializing with Mulder. The oily glint in the old man's eyes told me he sensed I kept something to myself. Maybe he was _guessing_ , and if I allowed my voice to waver, my fingers to tremble, he would ruin me. But he was too skilled in human puppetry to underestimate me, expecting absolute obedience and honesty. He knew who brought me up, and that if I didn't know how to use all my background and my appearance, I'd have been road kill at the age of 13. Or worse. What mattered was that he thought that for Mulder I was exactly what I was making _him_ believe I was: such a good little intern I would spit-polish my badge to make it shine brighter. Then he told me to keep my tabs on Mulder as before. Until further notice. When he left, I took a deep breath. Under the bitter Morley smoke, I could sense my own sweat. The tight, chest-hurting feeling of walking the dangerous edge subsided. But I was enjoying the game. I wouldn't mind spending months in the Junior's shoes if it gets me two steps up on Stinker's ladder at a time. 

I knew what Stinker most probably didn't - and this was something. I contemplated sleeping in on Saturday with a little gym time and a quick anonymous get-off on Sunday. 

Mulder called my cellular at almost 11 pm on Friday night. He was just back from the manure wonderland. Apparently life stank for him too much because he sounded...a little slurred. Dead tired or drunk? I asked how the questioning went. Mulder blurted that hell hath no fury like a bureaucrat scorned. When I asked how he was he told me to save my puissant ways for another day. You bitch. Well, then I said to him evenly that I had nothing else to talk about. There was a short silence. Then he hung up. It must have gone to his brain; the methane fumes. Scully must be made of asbestos to put up with his off-handed ways. Then I thought how she didn't know how sweet his ass was, and how redeeming it felt when he ate mine. 

On Saturday I woke up at 8:30, cursing because my cellular was ringing for what seemed like seven minutes. Mulder was at the door and he wanted in. Was there no escaping from him? What did I miss? Was Capitol Hill on fire? 

I stood like dumb-ass at the door, a sheet around my waist. The sun was already heating the room through the drawn blinds. On my porch was an apparition dressed in a blue polo shirt and faded Levis. You would think he looked about 25 if you hadn't seen his file. Mulder' s eyes - a shade of incredible blue-gray - were determined, and his intent must have been dirty. Or so I hoped, rubbing my gritty eyes. Otherwise I certainly wasn't going anywhere. 

"Aren't you up yet?" Mulder inquired in a voice as if I _had_ to be, then looked past me. Let me tell you, I have a one room apartment. A bedroom with a writing table, a scratched PC, some books and magazines for decoration and a tiny kitchen. Shamelessly, he ogled my crumpled bed. Briefly I wondered what he would have said if he surprised me with _someone_. 

"You just took care of bringing me up," I rasped. My voice was unused. Rough. 

I couldn't have intended a worse pun. Oh well, I shrugged and stood, only then remembering my hard-on that was no doubt making it's usual morning appearance. I looked down. Yup. Since Mulder wasn't one to take a long time to see the obvious, my standing had put him in a direct line of sight with my cock. 

I watched as he flushed, but that seemed to be the only evidence that my display might have been having any effect on him. In fact, Mulder's eyes were cool and appraising, and when they finally lifted to meet mine, there was humor in them as well. 

Now, I felt like I was hanging upside down in the air again. What was wrong - or right? - with this oddball extraordinaire? He could have been predictable if he wasn't so irrational. Maybe every Friday night Mulder was undergoing a changing? Like werevolves when it was the Full Moon? I was flabbergasted when Mulder handed me a paper bag. 

"A truce-gift. I was in a really _stinking_ bad mood when I came back. The hardest thing for me to understand in the world is income tax." 

I wanted to comment he should have called Skinner to lash out or consulted the IRS, but the smell of fresh bagels made my mouth water. These were not the proverbial gifts I'd have to fear. 

"You have coffee?" Mulder went to the kitchen to inspect my almost empty fridge. It was the first time he was in my apartment but one didn't need a map to find the obvious. 

"Yeah, I guess you have," was all he said as he brushed by me, and then he smiled and turned back to the kitchen to root through the cupboards. 

"I went for a run and then to the pool. Two showers later and I still think I stink." 

I shook my head, which meant I didn't smell any odor. It was all I could do. I always woke up sharp and quick, but this time I had difficulty adjusting. 

Yup, I thought. Mulder however, _was_ adjusting nicely. Because he was talking and I still hadn't even opened my mouth. He caught me unawares. I should have learnt that lesson in Rhode Island. There _was_ a pattern in his game. It appeared now that Mulder had finally made his decision, he wasn't going to waste any time pretending otherwise that we were not acquainted _closer_. I smiled to myself, as I remembered again how he'd been last week in bed when we fucked for the first time - and the second - and the third. Nah, Mulder wasn't about wasting any time when he had an opportunity. That wasn't his problem. Then, how about _discretion_? 

Tackle that subject when he has had his coffee. I needed to slap up my grey cells. 

I shuffled to the bathroom and started running the shower. Faintly hoping that Mulder would burst in. Nah, too easy. Then after staring at it a minute, I turned it off again. On second thought, I had a better idea, now that we were on my turf. Instead, I shaved and brushed my teeth, and took care of the rest of my preparations for whatever the day might bring. I didn't put on many clothes, though, except for a pair of gym shorts and a plain white crew tee. First of all, the day promised to be as muggy as the week. Maybe there would be a thunderstorm by the evening, finally. Second, I wasn't sure what Mulder was thinking of doing, but I sure as hell wasn't going to discourage any possibilities. 

When I went into the main room, the scent of coffee was wafting in the air. I had some creamer and some cream cheese in the fridge, plus a brand new jar of apricot jam Mulder was unscrewing at the moment. I walked up behind him and peaked over his shoulder, careful of not touching. It was hard not to bend down and bite his neck, push him face-down in the sink and inquire if he was ready for me. 

"You don't have a TV?" Mulder asked out of the blue in a tone of childlike wonder. 

"No." He didn't elaborate but wore that amazed look while getting the food onto the kitchen table. 

I watched as he took a bite. Suddenly, I forgot about being hungry. I was too busy staring at Mulder to worry about something as mundane as food. Mulder, who was here, with me, this morning - or his alter demented ego? - sitting across from me at this table, eating my food... It felt all so familiar, so normal...that it didn't feel right at all. Maybe because the last 5 years of my life were mornings without anyone. 

"What are you smiling at?" He asked. I focused on his eyes and watched as he got a little flustered, and I felt my heart flip over in my chest when I realized that I could make him color like that before the afterglow hit. 

"Silence is one great art of conversation." I didn't know where that came from. But Mulder appreciated one-liners, especially ones with double meaning. 

"Eat your stuff," his tone was gruff, but I could see the smirk playing around the edges of his mouth. 

Obediently I took a crisp roll. "This was nice of you," I replied. Mulder just shrugged in a "it's nothing" manner. 

"I had no idea you could cook." Whoa, what brilliant line will be next? Can you do my laundry? 

"This is not cooking," Mulder snorted. "This is opening a jam jar. But yes, now that you ask, I can't cook a rat's ass. And you?" 

"I can. A little." I just never lived any place where I needed to show it off before, I wanted to add but bit my tongue instead. I wasn't going to unload on him all my nice sides like I did with the fucking. I was not all nice sides, first of all. 

The coffee maker had been chugging away the whole time, but then it gave a loud gasp to tell me it was done. I went over and fetched us both a cup. 

"So what, you're planning on living here?" I was teasing dangerously, but Mulder answered half seriously. 

"If you'll have me," he parried, but in the back of his eyes was a little flicker of attentiveness. I didn't know what mind-fuck he was planning, but I wasn't a half-wit to roll over and call it quits. 

"Well, let's make it for a trial period, shall we? Like the next 2 hours or so?" I had raised my eyebrows questioningly. I noticed this mimic did something for him - Mulder would try to snap, but failed every time. Maybe because I looked like a puppy whom he couldn't kick? 

Mulder grinned wryly. "It's a deal." 

I lapped up the last of the bread crumbs off my hands. "But _you_ take care of the household this time. Like lunch." Mulder said. It sounded like an order. 

"Hey, I thought this was supposed to be an equal partnership?" 

"You," Mulder went over for more coffee to the coffee machine. I should have rubbed my eyes, but this man knew how to flaunt _his_ ass when dressed. "Were misinformed." 

I went over to the sink and put my cup and bread knife into the dishpan and gave it a squirt of soap. Mulder, who could consume an amount of coffee that would kill a horse, put down his cup next to me. 

"You wash, I dry?" He quirked. There was so little to wash that I thought, yeah sure, he could do this. 

I turned off the water and carefully dried my hands. This time no one gets hurt to get down. Then I turned to him and put my hand around his neck. I waited a little to see what his reaction would be. He just grinned. 

"No, they soak and we ignore." Then I added suggestively, "I have other plans for us." 

"Oh really?" Mulder tried to sound sexy but his eyes told me he was still a little nervous. Sure we might have fucked. Hard. But he never told me he planned to have more. They say it's the first time that is difficult. Bullshit. Keeping it up and not looking away was hard. And we both knew it. 

"Uh huh," I pushed myself closer to him and twisted around so his back was pressing into the sink. His tenebrous eyes were filled with anticipation. The way he was breathing a little too quickly signaled his blood rising. Mine was thick with lust for this man with chameleon eyes. My thoughts quickly bounced between yes and no. No, I knew it wasn't 101% safe. But I liked seeing Mulder just letting me take what I wanted. This could be the trap. It wasn't all about my career plans within the shadowy government structures; I just plain liked Mulder, with all his shortcomings and glitches, his non-conformism and inquisitive mind. It didn't matter how you served him up, he was special. Our eyes locked and as if I had asked for permission, Mulder gave a slight nod. 

But there was something in his pose that was still holding him back from dropping through like in Rhode Island. _Safety_. 

He must have read my thoughts, I swear. It was uncanny, when Mulder said, "I couldn't call yesterday and say - hey, lets have a boink together, y'know?" 

What I knew for sure - and I made sure of this - was that my place was clean. One rule that we shall have to keep to is that it would be impossible for Mulder to stay for the night. Because there could be outward surveillance. Otherwise... 

"I don't think I'm that important to waste a bug," I assured him. 

"Well, I _am_ ," Mulder noted, sourly. With all my due, I think he was too self-assured. Well, I wasn't going to let this wilt only because Mulder considered himself a threat to national security. 

"Whatever we do inside, stays inside." The magic words. "Nobody has to know." 

I pressed my groin to his and was gratified by the lurch I felt under the worn denim of his jeans. I rotated my ass and ground in a little harder. 

"Sweet Jesus," he muttered. "If this is the plan, then I'm all for it." 

He was game. I wanted to see him naked. He was narrow-hipped, with long thighs and feet, curvy shoulders and a strong stomach. Finally I had my match. Unlike the younger studs I could bend into all shapes. I wanted to break in this one. 

"Only the beginning," I murmured into the ear I was nibbling. 

Mulder stretched his neck to give my mouth more room to work with and laughed softly. "Goody. Shall we retire to the bedroom?" He waved his hand in the direction of my bed. It took up most of the room. Whoever furnished this corner, enjoyed staying horizontal. 

I pulled back and looked at him. "I think I have a better idea." 

I ignored his questioning look and slid my hand around the waistband of his jeans. I watched as his grin changed to a puzzled expression, as I didn't take the opportunity to grab him, but rather, turned my back and pulled him by his pants towards the bathroom. 

When we got to the doorway I turned back towards him. "You still owe me _a cleanup._ " 

Mulder looked seriously disturbed for a moment. 

"You are not going to make me clean your bathroom with a toothbrush?" He inquired, artificially saucer-eyed. 

"The Devil always finds work for idle hands," my aunt used to say." 

Light dawned in Mulder's eyes and then they darkened as the lewd suggestion took hold in his mind. Now it was his turn to pull me towards him and his kiss was fierce. 

"You're right, if this is what you are getting at. And this time, I plan on finishing what I started." 

His hands slid down over my ass and he pushed my shorts over my rump until gravity took over and they fell into a pile at my feet. I returned the favor by using both my hands to unsnap his jeans. Then looking at his face, I watched every click of the teeth register as I slowly lowered his zipper. I didn't think he would mind if he had has his third shower of the morning. 

We were still in the doorway, but now we both moved to go into the bathroom at once and... 

"Damn!" Mulder laughed huskily as our shoulders got stuck in the doorframe. "Are you sure we can both fit in here?" He pointed to the room in general and the shower specifically. 

"Trust me, we can fit," I assured him. "We just have to turn in unison and make sure not to make any sudden moves." I gently pushed him into the room. "And we have to be willing to be close - very, very close." 

"Mmmm, I like the sound of that," Mulder practically purred. Now that was the sound that had I been told beforehand, I would not have believed Mulder was capable of producing. 

I turned on the shower to lukewarm and then, knowing the limitations of my water heater, didn't waste any time stepping in and dragging my all-of-a-sudden-undone-g-man with me. The feeling of Mulder's naked and suddenly wet skin caused a shiver to run through me even though the water had already reached its optimum heat. Mulder was behind me and he snaked his hands around my chest, squeezing me to him. The familiarity he treated me with was lifting, virtually. It was as if his other side just jumped over all the formalities. 

"I guess there is something to be said for small spaces," he murmured into my ear and then gently bit down on my lobe. 

"Oh yeah!" I agreed. It was bewildering, but I liked so far that there was no set roles. I didn't protest when he took the lead, touching me where and how he wanted. He was affecting me on a level of sexual type casting that I decided to ponder on later. 

For a few moments we just stood, face to face, letting the water sluice gently over us. I just watched his face - I could _feel_ what was going on in the penile region, but this man was all in his head. Who won the staring contest, took it all. Mulder looked down first, to my mouth, with the focus he reserved for raving maniacs and pseudo-alien goo. 

"I want you." He finally said in a low voice that made my stomach flutter. Mulder reached up to cup my chin, and his thumb slid over my closed lips. Then he looked up, back to my face, questioningly, like he was offering something very important. 

It dawned on me then. Whoever gets control over this man, will have him eating out of their hand. But they shouldn't forget he owed a gun. And he was obsessive-compulsive, antisocial, had a track record of caging psychos and toted a fucked-up childhood. He was used to getting whatever he wanted, disobeying authorities and he _was_ a figure of some authority himself. 

Don't play his game. Don't even look at him.Once. Resistance only added to his desire. 

"Just let me wash my head first," I told him curtly, reaching out for a bottle of Head &Shoulders. Mulder looked at me without nodding and with some discontent, but stepped back, just a little to give me space. He was practically out of the shower, while all the water was falling on me. His eyes were filling me up, hot as coals - the look I know now, from Rhode Island. 

When I turned my back to him to rinse the shampoo off, he moved closer, hardly touching, with only fingertips running down my side. The tip of his raising cock was in the groove above my coccyx. 

"So you came to finish _this_ business?" I asked, without looking back. It was obvious Mulder was not in bottom mode now. Even though in Rhode Island he never even hinted he wanted to put it up my ass. But then, I never expected him to be a bum-boy. They don't come with such stature and attitude. 

"Yes and no," Mulder said and I felt his eager lips on the bump of my shoulder bone. My free hand went around his waist and made the contact tighter. He made that little _agh_ almost sub-aural sigh of delight that I would double my effort to hear again. 

"You are mucho bored, Mulder. Do I provide a nice diversity?" You want me? Fine. Come after me. But I have to know if it is because of _me_ or `cos you're hard and there's no one else around. 

I wanted to be special. I was in troubles. Fuck it. 

"The important thing is not to stop questioning, Einstein said." He dodged the question. With such agile hands as his, Mulder could collect puzzle pieces without looking. 

"I wonder, if you have a long FAQ session, maybe we should take it out of the shower? You have many questions?" 

"Just one." I was breathing raggedly now, arousal mounting, still facing the damp wall. Maybe I should mention to the Stinker I need a pay-raise for the jobs I'm doing. What Mulder was doing to my backside felt too good, but before he could decide to try and see if I am the _suck and tell_ kind of guy, I decided it was better to put him off at once. 

"Shoot away." 

"I wonder where you learnt feigning a subservient straight blue-flamer so perfectly? Since when is the Don't Show Don't Tell test a must in the Academy? Or do you think I'm enjoying this impressive parody of "I don't care". Do I look like an idiot?" 

Well, this had tweaked a cord in me. Anger like a bubble was swelling in my gut. I did what he asked me to do, looked like he wanted me to. I didn't exactly suck up to him, but I treated Mulder with respect and civility. And this _too_ was wrong? Or he expected me to play grab-ass in the toilet? I bared my teeth, and turned to look at him. I played the Rookie too well? He will get _me_ then. Mulder may be a Senior, but that's just a fucking piece of paper and the brass badge; under the uniform or the civilian clothes we both know we are equals, and more than that, we fit together. . He's got a problem of working with a guy who is his match, not a woman he can make allowances for? Or rather he never had anything like this with Scully, and lashes out at me for being just what he wants. He needed to get it square in the face from me? What kind of an idiot _he_ kept me for? 

"Half the world is composed of idiots, the other half of people clever enough to take indecent advantage of them." 

I turned off the lukewarm water. Mulder's face blurred as water dripped from my hair into my eyes. 

"So you categorized us both as the latter?" Mulder inquired, icily, disapprovingly. He didn't guard his face so well when naked and with a dick bobbing. He wanted to push me away, to slap me square in the face or have a shouting match, or maybe step over me and never come back. But whether it was devil's glue or just two still there hard-ons, Mulder stayed as he was. 

He always did that, staring so long and so impassively that one wanted to squirm or look away, except I wouldn't give Mulder the satisfaction. Of course, that assumed the arrogant jerk would even get satisfaction out of it. 

Silence was also the best answer in this case. But I didn't feel better when Mulder cupped my jaw and I couldn't look away. 

"What do you want from _me_ then? You look at me like a man who wants something, Alex." 

Mulder thinks if he is honest, it obliges me to answer in the same tune? 

My chin ached and I could feel my heart beating against Mulder's chest, could feel him exhale into my face, and now was not the time to say the wrong thing to provoke Mulder's temper. He must have a 'hit first, ask questions later' kind of attitude as I read a few of complaint on him, and so must have had his family. 

So I lied through my teeth. "I don't want anything from _you_ that I don't already have, Mulder." 

Mulder didn't look angry, just intent. Serious. That made me bolder. When he let go of my face, I claimed my grounds. 

"And who told you, Mr Profiler that I don't fuck women?" "I though you _must_ , in packs. Clean cut, baby face," Mulder said, voice growing darker as his short fingernails bit into my hip. "Your mimicry is worth a medal. I'll bet nobody looks at you and sees a cocksucker, sees someone who likes the feel of a hard dick in his mouth." "Mulder, you want another game? Fag-talk just gets you over the edge?" "I'm always right on the edge of it when you are around." Just for a second his resentment lifted, he sounded helpless. For a control freak like Mulder this was a confession. "So gender-fucked and here you saunter in, like you don't really care who. Men, women, animals." So, it was about his guilt over his own proclivity? Lack of willpower? I wasn't destined to be a profiler because I wouldn't complicate my life killing myself over what hole I wanted to put my dick up. And all evidence was to the fact that Mulder still wanted to get up mine. I answered honestly   
"Sex is not always better with men. But... more believable." 

Perhaps for the first time in my memory, I was overjoyed that Mulder was contrary in nature. 

"How come you get the best lines, Krycek?" Mulder smiled, faintly, grimly embarrassed to have admitted something he obviously was reluctant to reveal. 

"The way you get the better suits?" Mulder rolled his eyes at that. 

"I just buy mine." His palm was cupping my head, like he wanted to rattle it. Both my palms were on his chest. Suddenly breaking into a beamer, as if I passed some test, Mulder chided, 

"Your hair will come off if you wash it more." 

Damn, it was like a rollercoaster. Before this man no one managed to make me both horny and annoyed. He was driving me wild. Could this be how _he_ felt around me? 

"And so you don't want me to put any gel in it?" I rotated my palm, lightly twisting his nipple. It was his Achilles heel - I wickedly planned to test if I could give him an orgasm by playing with his nipples and a hand-job alone. 

"Oh fuck," Mulder sighed and pressed his hard cock into mine. "Don't do this thing. Not like this, I don't...." 

"K," abruptly I stepped back and Mulder almost whimpered. He may have been one of the slowest starters the world had ever seen, but now that he'd finally cleared the gate, the boy was putting his all into it. And no more waxing smart. We started to kiss in earnest and the four hands had a life of their own. 

"Krycek, I..." 

"Shhhh," my hand stroked his back. His skin was so smooth, not a blemish. A pure-bred, indeed. "So you just want to explore another side of me?" 

"For starters..." Mulder pushed his tongue into my mouth leisurely. It was maddeningly slow, and I felt the flush return to his face. I kissed back, his lips slipping against mine while we licked at each other like an ice cream cone. Too soon Mulder stopped and pressed our foreheads together. I couldn't stand still - it was the limit, to decide who does what. 

"Alex?" Mulder could sandwich a lot into a single word.Who said his voice is inexpressive? 

"Yeah?" I kept my voice low, sultry, like his. We breathed together, sharing the same air. 

"May I fuck you?" 

I was startled for a second. Maybe I was just a curious specimen. Maybe his first one? I couldn't say it - couldn't read his eyes for once. But the careful way he phrased it, the choice of verb... Funny, I'd been so concerned about myself being at ease, I'd never thought about Mulder's own issues. Now it seemed that maybe it wasn't I who was going to back away, but _him_. So indeed our little sparring proved that he wasn't comfortable just being himself. If I helped him along, got him going easy... 

I thought Mulder could live if he doesn't get my ass. But being stubborn, I wanted to jump the way he didn't expect. 

I nodded. I relaxed a little and let my senses take over. I shivered as I felt his fingers brush the small of my back and then linger over one of my buttocks. He was delicate as he touched my surface with the soft slippery pads of his fingers, tracing skin and the muscle underneath. It tickled and yet at the same time it seemed to leave trails of fire that burned just under my surface. I realized I'd spread my legs and leaned up against the wall, shoving my ass further and further up in invitation. 

So, I thought, through the haze of heat, power really does overcome all obstacles. And is the biggest turn-on. 

"Eat me out and you will get it," I said. 

Mulder didn't say a word. Instead he moved in closer and wrapped his arms around me. His cock slipped between my legs and I held my breath as I felt it slide into my hot crack. I thrust back as he slid forward and the feeling was so exquisite, so _forgotten_ my knees almost went weak. And just then he dropped on his neo-English knees. 

Rim jobs deserved my hottest praises. If he ate his chicks like this, I wondered why he was still a bachelor. Maybe it was his nose that he poked everywhere and that he needed all the attention on himself. 

"Oh man," I gasped. "That feels so damn better... than when ... you talk." 

Much as I was suddenly sure I was ready for Mulder to fuck me, I didn't want it to end up being a race against a cold shower. 

Sharing one towel and a wet trail on the floor, we made it to the bed. Now, I doubted this would be as earth-shattering as his get-offs, but I would wring as much pleasure as I could. Mulder had the talent to make things different. 

"You have...something?" 

I handed him Neutrogena Odorless Oil. This will do. I also had a couple of condoms in my drawer and after a moment of consideration, Mulder didn't take one. I kept all comments to myself. He was one chancy guy. 

"How do you usually..." 

"Just get it on. It's not about me..." I laid myself across the bed, on my stomach. The sheets smelt familiar. That helped me to relax a little. My back felt over-exposed. I would never understand all the thrills of being a bottom. 

"Well, if you say so... But I thought you'd be harder to bend over," Muder mused. 

I grinned smugly into the mattress. "So, you thought about me, did you?" 

Mulder wouldn't answer. After what he told me, he didn't have to. He inserted the tips of his two fingers into me and pushed lightly. I gasped. 

"Man, you're tight," he mumbled in genuine wonder. I felt he knew what he was doing. I wondered how much he had topped. 

"You think I am a virgin?" As Mulder twisted and turned his fingers, I started to burn, slowly. 

"That would be an aberration," Mulder reassured. He sounded like he was concentrating. 

"Will it get you there? I can pretend." 

I bit my lip at the jab of his fingers that was intentional. I never talked that much to anyone whom I let touch my ass. 

"I don't. Doubt. That." He said, fingers slowly working up my ass, but raising, between rough kisses down my spine. 

I didn't make much noise when something felt good. I would just tense and move against Mulder's crotch and fingers, and that made him eager to stroke my shoulders and the muscles of my arms and back. 

"Oh!" I said when Mulder curled his fingers just right. "There. Right there." I barely heard his chuckle over my own harsh breathing. After a few moments Mulder slid his fingers out, and I looked over my shoulder to watch him sit back a little and beckon to me to slid closer. His eyes were dark and his mouth red, and the flush of his skin made him glow. He was one pretty stud. He made me proud of my choice. I closed my eyes and bit the sheets when Mulder slicked himself up, and the press of his cock made me blurt a curse he didn't understand. 

Mulder was breathing harder, making sounds in the back of his throat that made me wish I could face and see him. I had that rare liquid feeling in my gut that bordered on ache, my skin was hot, and I was getting hard again, wondering if Mulder would touch me if I begged. 

He twisted his hips and made me plough the mattress with my nose. 

"This hurts?" he asked, amused, in my neck. 

"Bastard." It hurt. He knew. He'd been there. And I'm tighter than he is - appreciate it Mulder. 

Mulder moved slowly and steadily, and by the time he was in all the way, all I wanted him to do was move some more. Mulder shifted his hips in a shallow thrust, and he nudged my thighs wider, his chest sliding against my back. I growled when Mulder shifted. The angle he fucked me changed for the better. I was starting to enjoy it. Maybe he _did_ practice this more often than I thought. "Harder." 

Mulder didn't give me harder. He moved again, too gentle and shallow, skin slipping and rubbing together. Again, and again, and I said, "Harder." 

"This isn't about you," he reminded, harshly. My fists clenched in the linen, and there was a bitter tang in my mouth. You pansy prick! I could have kicked out and hurt him, but would have ended up hurting myself more. 

If it was his intent to make me lie like a log and look like I was doing him a favor, he was going to get one hell of a surprise. I'm not a pain-junkie, but I can handle some. 

His weight felt good nonetheless, almost like a massage. Our arms were flung before us, his hands laced through mine to keep me grounded. I still felt the anxiety in him that I'd soon just kick him off. I believe he is as new with someone of my mettle and size as I am with his. Inside me he moved with a rhythm, rapid thrusts and then slow ones. I guessed he was working hard but couldn't get there. 

This happens. I folded my hands in front of me. "What can I do then _for_ you? Do you want me to call you something? Strud? Master? Baby?" 

I spoke with effort. He pushed harder, his legs trembling. "Please, don't. I will survive." I winced as his sharper thrust signaled that I chafed him raw. I didn't give up, but it started to hurt. He had put on a lot of lube, so I figured that at least that would have prevented me from walking funny later on. 

I want to feel him come. He tries to, he really does. I just waited, teeth clenched, for Mulder to crack. To tell me what he wanted to do or hear. 

"Call me 'Fox'," he says, into the back of my neck. It was like a punch in the gut. 

He was shoving into me, gasping into my hair, and it hurt, but I wanted it all the same, the rough friction and smell of his sweat, wanted to feel how real it was, wanted to prove that this moment existed, that there was nothing more painful or tangible than this. That life hurts, and it fucks you and you never get off and it's never enough. 

"Call me 'Fox'," he repeats. There was desperation in his voice. 

"But I think of you as 'baby'," I snorted into the bedcover. It was wet from my spit. 

Mulder muttered something - dirty, a slur - into my nape and twisted his hips to make me push back. It made him go all _awh_ and _jesus fuck_ , but still he didn't come. He was not able to come. Either he would beg me to do something to help him or he would have to pull out. 

"Just this once. Please say it just once..." 

"Fox," I say. The word had a brittle, sexy feel in my mouth. Mulder sped up, his fingers tightening on mine. It swelled - the feeling I get over him, the exhilarating sensation as his hips thrust and I rub, demented, against the cover and we fused, my knees hurting... It hurts too good now to pretend I don't enjoy it. 

"Fox," I say louder, into his bicep, pushing back. 

The world had narrowed to that one moment. To only us. "I really want you, Fox," I say exercising my newly-found power, and he comes suddenly, violently with a growl that has a whiny tiny undertone. I kiss bit his muscular arm, twisting my head unnaturally. His semen is stinging faintly in the abraded places inside of me. 

Maybe I had wanted this to happen from the very start, but there was no way I would ever say it out loud. 

We still touched at random places -- shoulder, his knuckles pressing against my hip, his calf slung over my shin. Mulder's head lolled on the mattress and he looked over at me. He looked sleepy, hair tangled and in his eyes. Like he wanted to hide. Or did he just find it hard to look at me? 

He really shouldn't bother. I have had worse. I long, long time ago. 

I rubbed his calf with the sole of my foot. I hadn't come yet, but I was about to make it all about me. I just needed a moment. 

His phone rang suddenly in the lazy quiet of the morning like a fire alarm. I let out my breath through my teeth. Slowly. My ears were ringing. 

Next thing Mulder did when he managed to sit up, is reach out for the phone. I turned over on to my back. He watched me from the corner of his eye alertly as he picked it up. 

"Yes, it's me, Scully..." he pronounced carefully. He sounded suspiciously out of breath, anyway. 

You son of a bitch. I rose slowly into a sitting position, feeling his every thrust in my backside. I was still half-hard from him, but I was getting harder from the ideas of how he would get me off. And I didn't plan to sit and wait while he stopped to love-lisp with his broad. I fisted my cock a few times contemplating his back. Torn between a desire to lick him between the shoulder blades or punch him in the kidneys. 

Mulder made a gesture as if he were looking at his wrist-watch that wasn't there. 

"Yes, I remember, I told you I`d drop to pick up the files. What? Did I say 9:30?" Mulder looked helplessly around. There was no alarm clock, no wall clock either. He looked over his shoulder, desperately lip-synced to me _what' s the time_. I shrugged, spitefully. Work for it, boy. 

"Oh, I don't know...I ... what? 10:20? Uh...I'm...I'm at home. I overslept." He was getting annoyed by her inquisition, obviously. 

Mulder is such a shitty liar. No wonder he got so pissed seeing me pretending. I bet he will remember that _I_ heard him lying so shamelessly. I got up and went to stand in front of him. Seeing me approach, he looked up, warily, then put the phone to the other ear and continued, as if I wasn't there: 

"OK, I will come. No, you don't need to sit and wait all day. I said...listen... I _am_ on my way..." 

What a harpy. It was masochistic to be subjected to her voice. But I heard enough - he was to receive some files from her? What was there that I missed? I will think of it... later. 

I put my hand on his head, gripping his hair not roughly, but to attract his attention. There was some unfinished business to attend to, my cock pointed out. Just for a second murder flashed through his eyes, my bronze he-goat god, but then my free hand closed over his free ear, cutting off the sound. He crossed the t's immediately - if I started talking it would be hard to explain why he didn't just tell her he was with someone from the very start. 

"Just give me half an hour," Mulder squeezed in and pressed _stop_ on the cell phone. He sat back, hands on his lap. He thought he looked defiant, but he looked more petulant and uncertain. He was angry too, but I didn't wait till he decided how to direct his anger on me. Still holding his head slightly, I licked two of my fingers and he never let his eyes off my movements for a second. 

He could be aggressive in sex and over-bearing at work, but he wasn't domineering. He was just confused, because he just encountered a manipulator who was not going to make any more allowances. I didn't tremble because he was a profiler. I tried to bullshit the bullshitter. But I wanted us to get along, not for the Morley-man, and I wanted us both to enjoy the process. 

My wet fingers traced his forehead, like a barrel of a gun, and stopped at his lips. The underside of his lower lip was so tender, like a petal. 

"How about turning a nicer side to me, you stud?" 

"You are one sweet-talker," Mulder said hurriedly before I called him Fox to his face. 

"One thing you can be sure you won't hear from me..." I teased. 

"You scare me all too soon again, and what could those words be?" Mulder wasn't playing hard to get. He was there - traveling up my ass and back. I suspected he got what he wanted. Another proof for self-identifying. And a lesson, too. 

"You men only want one thing," I whispered and pushed my face into his face. Man, this was a guy who could give me a hard-on despite that a few moments ago I wanted to skin him. 

I liked him the more because he seemed to get all my jokes. 

"No hands," I ordered sweetly when he shoved the phone off the bed and planted his fists firmly into the bed surface. 

Mulder first licked the side of my thigh, then proceeded to the balls with his eyes hooded. I saw the way his jaw worked. It alone was a stimulus to last longer, even if my knees were wobbling from the fuck. I was going to wring the most out of this blow job. 

I held his head in my hands while I fucked his hot, fickle mouth. My fingers curled behind his burning ears, the bones moving smoothly under vulnerable, damp skin on the back of his head. My palm pressed hard, over his jugular, the promise of how far he can go with me. And I will deliver, I will stay silent. And he will never forget. He will hate me for knowing his secret, but we shall be anchored by the knowledge we share. 

I came when he started to moan with his mouth full. He was warming up for the second round just from sucking me. It felt so good with my backside still aching, cum all over his face again, just like the first time. Mulder tried to push me and turn away, but I caught his wrists and wouldn't let go. 

"Don't...do this again," Mulder said with effort as I pulled him up, licking his face. 

"If I listen, you won't get this any more," I sucked on his lower lip, dragging my fingers through the skin of his cheek and neck, leaving white tracks. 

He let himself be licked and stroked into a better mood. Then started to roll on the balls of his feet, in discomfiture. 

"I have to go. I promised yesterday... and ... forgot." Mulder sounded guilty. "Did I hurt you? Much?" 

I wondered if Scully would guess he just pulled his dick out of his Junior' s ass. Nah, she probably doesn't even know I _have_ an asshole. 

"Do you want to do it again?" 

"I'm not getting off on this." He was stroking up and down my spine now, idly. 

"Then come back to get off on what you like. Or you need rules?" 

Mulder stepped away, ran his hand through his hair, bit on his tender lip. Then reached for his jeans. 

"What are yours?" He asked, business-like. 

"Don't lash out at me because you can't pretend we're not fucking as good as I can. We must be cautious, and we must do our best." 

I wasn't doing this for him, I kept repeating to myself. I was doing it to keep myself out of danger. 

There was something sharp, disparaging on his tongue as Mulder licked his lips, but it didn't make it past his delectable mouth. He just stood there, anticipating what else I would condition. 

"We don't talk of this in the office or over the phone. Don't treat me like I'm your valet. And you can't stay for the night." 

"That's all?" Mulder didn't look like this was much to him. 

"Yeah. And I get to call you Fox when we're eye-to eye." 

Seeing rejection in his eyes, I crossed my hands on my chest. 

"C'mon, Mulder. _This_ is serious. I'm making a name calling a principle." 

"I can call you Krycek. All the time." Mulder offered, wickedly benevolent. 

"Uh huh. Either Fox or I give you a nickname. You know, that only I and you know." 

I made sure that I looked as harmless as possible when I said that. Mulder looked like he immediately disagreed and was scared of the options I might come forth with. 

"OK, damn you," Mulder said heartily. "Better my name then... than whatever. Anything else?" 

He was already dressed and contemplating me pulling on my shorts and the tee. 

"The rest is... negotiable. I'm easy. Tell me what you want and how... you don't have to prove me your..." I looked around, couldn't come up with a proper word. 

"... prove my virility?" Mulder ended for me. Unexpectedly, it made me color, while he looked amused. Apparently because I felt now visibly ill at ease. "Don't get flustered. My sensibilities are not hurt." 

"OK," I shrugged. He kept looking at me, like he was waiting for something important to happen. 

"Go, go or Scully will have a premenstrual meltdown over it." 

Mulder made a face, a mixture of smirking and showing his incisors because I slurred his precious red ex-partner. 

"So, you do dinner?" Mulder turned in the doorway. What was that bothered me? Ah. I needed to try and find out what were the files Scully was talking about. Nothing important if Mulder let himself talk about them in my presence? So I would say yes. Instead I arched my brow. 

"If you wash. And serve. And when I push, you yield, pretty face." 

"We'll see", Mulder blinked at me, considering and flipped me the finger, running down the stairs. His eyes were sparkling. He looked breath-taking in the afterglow. 

"Fuck you, princess." 

I smiled sweetly. When he gets back, we shall se who is in control here. But I will make it look like it is about him. All of him. 

*end   
  

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